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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29787405">don't stop walking</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatingcastle/pseuds/floatingcastle'>floatingcastle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A3! (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No Mankai Company, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Parenthood, Settsu Banri Swears A Lot, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 03:02:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,949</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29787405</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatingcastle/pseuds/floatingcastle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You get a non-nuclear family! You get a non-nuclear family! Everybody gets a non-nuclear family!</p><blockquote>
  <p>A motorcycle accident results in injury, but not death.<br/>A fight never happens, a play is never watched, a theatre is never formed.<br/>A cliffside mission goes well enough that someone makes the dangerous choice to leave.</p>
</blockquote>Tags will update with the fic.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>August/Mikage Hisoka/Utsuki Chikage, Chigasaki Itaru &amp; Utsuki Chikage, Hyoudou Juuza/Settsu Banri</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>don't stop walking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>can someone crack my back for me?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Settsu Banri entered stage left. </p><p>Today’s expected set? The only bakery on Veludo West that was open at three in the morning. </p><p>Rather, the only bakery on Veludo West that could satisfy the bizarre food cravings of his irritable roommate. Chigasaki Itaru was a late-thirties working man but he ate like a pregnant woman in her third primary. </p><p><em>Get me something with the highest concentration of sugar you can find</em>, Itaru said. </p><p><em>You’re not in college anymore, dude, you can’t keep living off pizza and sugar and three hours of sleep</em>, Banri said. </p><p><em>That doesn’t sound like you walking out the door and getting my order</em>, Itaru said. </p><p><em>Fuck you</em>, Banri said. </p><p>So now he was here: walking down the street in the middle of the night, phone flashlight guiding him down the sidewalk, hauling ass. The only reason Banri even indulged the request was because he still owed Itaru one for covering him in their last dungeon run. </p><p>They might have been feeding into each other’s bad habits like this. But hey, Banri was here for a good time, not a long time. He’d already stuck around much longer than his high school self envisioned. Every year past thirty counted as a bonus stage. He was already in New Game+! </p><p>It was a short walk. Using his phone’s map to navigate, Banri stopped on the cheaper side of town in front of a decrepit building advertising space open for rent in one of its higher windows. Just a few streets off from the red-light district. </p><p>He double-checked the address Itaru sent him. …This was the right place. </p><p>It wasn’t too surprising that the lights were still on at this hour, if this bakery really did run on the schedule of a convenience store, but the grey atmosphere during his ascent was a far cry from the warmth of Family Mart. </p><p>(He made frequent visits to Family Mart to pick up Itaru’s gaming fuel. The employee on register for the graveyard shift even knew him by name, and would greet him as soon as the automatic doors slid open to reveal his handsome face.) </p><p>There was none of that familiarity here.</p><p>The first floor held a locked office with a nameplate hastily written in half-dried pen, warning passersby not to try the door without making an appointment first. Banri read “Sky Finance” off the label. He was good on finance, thanks. Both he and Itaru had more money than they knew what to do with even after whaling for gacha.</p><p>An obvious yakuza front on the very first floor wasn’t the best sign of quality. If Itaru made him trekk all the way here not just for dessert, but for <em>criminally dogshit-quality</em> dessert, he would strangle his roommate. </p><p>Hm. What was the likelihood of a low-ranking grunt popping out from behind a corner and attempting to murder him? There was something deeply wrong with Banri, so the thought made him excited more than it made him scared. It’d been years since he’d had the chance to really fight someone, no holds barred. He kept in shape nowadays by going to the gym and taking self-defense classes, but there was no thrill in it. </p><p>It might have been that he was looking at the past through rose-tinted glasses, filled with nostalgia, but he couldn’t remember feeling so alive as he did during petty street fights with delinquents from neighboring high schools. The sense of self-importance that tagged at his heels when he skipped classes. Knowing and making proof for himself that he was a genius—that no one else could match up to him.</p><p>Banri was always searching for a way to reach that same peak, aiming for higher and higher thrills. </p><p>He didn’t like thinking about the crash that came afterward. </p><p>The second floor of the building was an office like the one before it, except this one was covered in neon posters bragging about super-health drugs that would accelerate your stamina by ten times. </p><p>Banri would be curious if he didn’t already know from experience that 99% of these were multi-level marketing schemes. Not worth his time. </p><p>When he turned the next corner of the stairwell, his phone pinged.</p>
<p></p><div class="LIME">
  <p>
    <strong class="user_L">Itaru Chigasaki</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="left itaru">wya</p>
  <p>
    <strong class="user_R">BANRI.</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="right banri">omw to the bakery, duh. don’t you have work in the morning?</p>
  <p>
    <strong class="user_L">Itaru Chigasaki</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="left itaru">kk cool</p>
  <p>
    <strong class="user_L">Itaru Chigasaki</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="left itaru">thought u were dead bc u were taking so long </p>
  <p>
    <strong class="user_L">Itaru Chigasaki</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="left itaru">if u die how am i gonna pay ur half of the rent that’d be a major inconvenience 4 me</p>
  <p>
    <strong class="user_R">BANRI.</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="right banri">LMAO dude as if you wouldn’t straight up die without me</p>
  <p>
    <strong class="user_R">BANRI.</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="right banri">they’d find your corpse buried in Apple gift cards and empty ramen cups</p>
  <p>
    <strong class="user_L">Itaru Chigasaki</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="left itaru">its tru but u shouldnt say it</p>
  <p>
    <strong class="user_R">BANRI.</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="right banri">anyway this won’t take more than half an hour</p>
  <p>
    <strong class="user_R">BANRI.</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="right banri">keep my side of the couch warm for me babe &lt;3</p>
  <p>
    <strong class="user_L">Itaru Chigasaki</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="left itaru">ofc babe (no homo)</p>
  <p>
    <strong class="user_R">BANRI.</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="right banri">it’s 3AM and i can’t think of shit so pretend i said something funny here</p>
  <p>
    <strong class="user_L">Itaru Chigasaki</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="left itaru">its a wonder that i broke up w u when ur such a charmer </p>
  <p>
    <strong class="user_R">BANRI.</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="right banri">i agree but without the sarcasm</p>
  <p>
    <strong class="user_L">Itaru Chigasaki</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="left itaru">bakery treats nao plz kthx</p>
  <p>
    <strong class="user_R">BANRI.</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="right banri">you didn’t actually tell me what you wanted BTW</p>
</div>Itaru’s reply didn’t come. The guy had probably gotten distracted by someone’s bad play, which meant he’d be cussing like demonspawn into his headset for the next thirty minutes. If he didn’t end up liking whatever random pastry Banri bought him after all the fuss, then he could choke.<p>Fushimi Sweets had a totally different vibe than the tenants it shared housing with. </p><p>A small double-sided sign was placed out front. Someone had written “Open 24/7!” on it in white chalk, and the border was marked with the kind of washi tape you’d find in a teen girl’s bullet journal. Really, this wasn’t the kind of place he’d expect to be open this late.</p><p>Banri twisted the doorknob so slow that his wrist ached, trying to be quiet, but his efforts toward politeness were moot. The sound of a bell clattered in his ears, echoing through the empty corridor. Everyone and their mother would know he’d arrived. </p><p>“…?”</p><p>There was no greeting. </p><p>Bigfoot was standing at the register. </p><p>Okay, it wasn’t literally Bigfoot. Just a huge, muscular guy with eyes as dead as Itaru’s often were before his magical girl transformation into a functioning member of adult society. </p><p>The employee was glaring at Banri like he’d already killed the guy’s firstborn and pissed in his cereal at the same time, but the intimidation factor was softened by the frilly uniform apron tied over his front. It was almost cute. They’d barely made eye contact and Banri already had a feeling he knew why this guy didn’t get assigned the day shift. </p><p>He stepped inside, taking stock of the bakery’s limited interior. Definitely smelled like a bakery. Were they still making things fresh for the midnight slash early morning crowd? Was there enough of a midnight slash early morning crowd to justify that?</p><p> “Hey, you guys are open, yeah?”</p><p>Rather than give the simple “yeah” that would be necessary to answer, the gloomy employee pointed at the schedule pinned to the wall. The schedule being “Open 24/7!” </p><p>“I’ll take that as a yes. Cool.”</p><p>Being the only customer in an enclosed space like this was awkward as hell. Banri hung his thumb in one pocket and leaned back from the waist, trying to ignore the employee’s incessant staring. </p><p>The menu was written in the same white chalk. Some of the same flowery washi tape was there, too, but halfway through the perimeter it switched to a geometrical pattern like they’d run out of the first one. </p><p>To put it kindly, it was homely. To put it the way Banri would put it, it was cheap. </p><p>His eyes glazed over the long list of breads, pastries, cakes… Having an adult palate meant he’d grown out of sugary treats long ago, which meant he had no idea which one to buy. </p><p>“You got any recs?”</p><p>The employee’s eyes widened briefly before glancing around. As though there was anyone else in the vicinity that Banri could’ve been talking to. </p><p>“…Depends on what you’re lookin’ for.” </p><p>Oh, what the fuck? His voice was deep and rough like the devil, gravelly and worn. Goosebumps raised on the back of Banri’s neck, followed by tingles down his spine. </p><p>A switch flipped. He leaned his elbows on the counter, pressing into the employee’s personal space the way only a seasoned flirt could get away with. </p><p>“I dunno, man. If you were me, what would you be lookin’ for?” </p><p>“Depends.”</p><p>That was less of a reaction than he wanted. Banri was wearing a low-cut shirt, so he was totally flashing his man cleavage at this angle. This either meant the guy was straight or couldn’t discern when high-quality goods were in front of him. Neither was a good sign for what he’d rate the place on Yelp later. </p><p>Just great at conversation, too. If he was lucky, he’d get ten words out of him by the time he left. </p><p>“Aight. What’s your favorite thing on the menu, then?”</p><p>“……Hard to choose. They’re all good.”</p><p>The hotness of his voice was diminishing with each half-assed response. His switch flipped back to “off.” Banri concluded the guy was too stupid to live and had only made it this far with the same miraculous chance of a monkey randomly hitting keys and putting out Shakespeare. </p><p>“Cool! That wasn’t helpful at all. They pay you to turn away customers? The brick wall thing’s gotta be on purpose, yeah?”</p><p>The cashier opened his mouth. Then closed it.</p><p>Banri felt the guy’s glare sink into him like a knife held to his throat. Getting a reaction spurred him on further, because where else was he supposed to find fun things to do around here? </p><p>Life was about the small and simple pleasures, like annoying customer service workers until he got banned from the premises of yet another public establishment. The McDonald’s a few cities over was already on that list. A few karaoke booths, too, but some of those were decidedly not his fault in his very unbiased opinion, thank you very much. </p><p>With the dead space left in the conversation, Banri spoke again. </p><p>“You’re not just some pervert with a thing for breaking-and-entering bakeries and roleplaying as a cashier to get your sick, sick rocks off, right? If you are, respect for the commitment. What’s your name, anyway?” </p><p>“………Juza Hyodo.” He pointed at the name tag sticker on the middle of his chest. Ah, so there it was the whole time. It was a mercy that this Hyodo guy was letting Banri get away with talking like this to a complete stranger who was monetarily obligated to stand there and listen. </p><p>Still, he was getting bored. </p><p>“Whatever. I’ll just get one of everything on the menu, I’ve always wanted to pull that move.” It was Itaru’s credit card paying for this, so he didn’t really care about the price. Itaru should know him well enough at this point to not trust Banri with his personal finances. </p><p>“We don’t…” Hyodo paused and took another breath. If Banri didn’t think so highly of himself, he would almost register it as an annoyed sigh. “Some of them take time to prepare. You’re gonna have to si’down and wait.” </p><p>“How long?”</p><p>“Dunno.”</p><p>“Isn’t that literally your whole job? To know? Dude, you fuckin’ suck at this.”</p><p>That was it. Hyodo slammed both hands on the countertop and growled—literally growled—while Banri involuntarily took a step back, not because he was intimidated, but because he was alarmed by the sudden noise and that was all. </p><p>“I shoulda had you thrown out five minutes ago, you rude sonnuva—!”</p><p>The door behind Hyodo that led to the bakery’s inner workings swung open and out came Bigfoot’s bigger cousin, Biggerfoot, holding a muffin tray in mittened hands. </p><p>“Juza-kun? What’s happening?”</p><p>“…Nothin’.” </p><p>A look was exchanged between the two that said he didn’t believe that. </p><p>“I heard yelling. Is everything okay?”</p><p>Banri looked the new guy up and down, taking note of the absurd amount of muscle under his frilly apron and puffy oven mitts. Maybe Fushimi Sweets only hired ex-wrestlers. He looked pretty rough ‘n tumble, with a scar on his chin and hands that had been in their fair share of scraps. </p><p>“S’fine. Just this guy—” Hyodo jerked his thumb at Banri, who took great offense to the rude gesture, “—complainin’ for no reason.”</p><p>“My complaints were perfectly fuckin’ reasonable.” He turned to the other guy. “You run this place?” </p><p>The baker looked between him and Hyodo for a second, spending his sweet time putting the muffin tray down and dragging out the motion of his mittens removal. Maybe he was hoping that things would calm down in the few extra seconds he’d garnered. Banri stifled a yawn.</p><p>“I’m Fushimi of Fushimi Sweets, yes. What can I help you with?”</p><p>“I want one of everything you’ve got on the menu. How long’s that gonna take?”</p><p>Fushimi smiled, and it was one of the prettier customer service smiles Banri had seen. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Fushimi was genuinely happy to help him. </p><p>“We can’t exactly do that, I’m afraid. At this time of night, we’re running low on most items, especially after the midnight snack rush. …Ah, I guess it’d be morning now.” A glance to the clock. It was 4:05 a.m. when no reasonable person should be awake, and yet all three of them were unbearably lucid. </p><p>“How much for you to start new batches of everything right now?” Banri didn’t even like sweets. He was following through on this just for the sake of doing it and just because he could. </p><p>And because Hyodo’s annoyed face as he stood between them, fuming, was delightfully fun. </p><p>“Sorry, we can’t do that.” </p><p>“What, you’re really sayin’ you’re above <em>any</em> amount of money?”</p><p>Fushimi exchanged a sharp look with Hyodo and a long second of silence passed. Banri was a little annoyed that he couldn’t decipher it. </p><p>“Alright then. So long as you’re willing to pay for the making of every new batch, and you’re willing to wait for them to finish, I don’t see why not. If you would take a seat?”</p><p>“No one’s answered my damn question yet. How long’s that gonna take?”</p><p>“We have an extensive menu, so… you would be here until morning.”</p><p>Hyodo’s face dropped like a ton of bricks. </p><p>“Omi-san, you really gonna let this jackass do what he wants? He’s not gonna properly appreciate your sweets. I can tell.”</p><p>“A customer is a customer. And remember, we don’t use that kind of language toward customers, okay?” </p><p>“…Sorry.” </p><p>The apology was directed toward Fushimi much more than it was Banri. </p><p>It felt like Banri had won this interaction, and he grinned at Hyodo like a smug fox as Fushimi went back to the kitchen to bake for the next few hours like his life depended on it. </p><p>“…You gotta pay upfront.”</p><p>“Kay. You know how to work a register, or do you need to call Fushimi back to help you with that, too?”</p><p>Banri could almost see the angry steam coming out of Hyodo’s ears, but he managed to restrain whatever snippy comeback he wanted to say and started inputting Banri’s outrageous order. </p><p>“That’s gonna be 146,900 yen.”</p><p>He was halfway through pulling out Itaru’s credit card when that number registered in his mind and he blanched.</p><p>“Sorry, <em>what</em>?” </p><p>Hyodo pointed at the register display.</p><p>“That’s gonna be 146,900 yen.”</p><p>“No, I heard you the first time, asshole. You cannot possibly expect me to believe that just one of everything on your menu costs the same as an overseas plane trip.” </p><p>“You’re payin’ for the new batches bein’ made, even if you just want one’a each. Normally, this ain’t a custom order kinda place. Cough it up.”</p><p>“Could you sound any more like a yakuza makin’ collections?” Banri shook his head. “No, wait, back up, this is insane.” </p><p>“You’re the one who made the order. If anything’s insane, s’you.”</p><p>He pinched the bridge of his nose. Maybe his order was a little insane. Maybe this happened a lot smoother on TV shows with rich people precisely because it was fiction and no one would ever pull the stunt in real life. Maybe he was wasting his time. </p><p>What was 100% certain, though, was that Banri was a stubborn motherfucker who wanted to dig his heels in. If he couldn’t finish eating everything with Itaru, then he’d offer the leftovers as free food for his own customers back at the tattoo parlor.</p><p>“Fine.” </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Juza got back to his apartment a little after sunrise. The clear blue of daybreak filtered into his vision. </p><p>Despite having been employed at the bakery for several months now, he couldn’t get used to working the graveyard shift. It left him feeling groggy and restless, and the deep-set glare his face defaulted to was even darker than usual thanks to that annoying, entitled bastard of a customer. </p><p>Fushimi Sweets was frequented by older women and students during the day, although Juza hadn’t seen any customers like that firsthand. Customers of the night varied wildly in personality and always seemed to come in right when Juza had decided there wouldn’t be any more activity for the rest of his shift. </p><p>The only time he’d been to the bakery during normal hours was the initial few interview appointments, which were a disastrous display of his lack of social skills. Omi was a saint for hiring him after all of that. </p><p>All of Juza’s introspection fell away as he heard the pitter-patter of footsteps rushing toward the entranceway. He put down his keys, closed the door behind him, and smiled at the young girl who peeked around the corner.</p><p>“Oh good! I thought you might be kinda late coming home. I don’t wanna be late for school again. They give you detention for that. You can drive me, right?” </p><p>“Yeah. Five minutes.” </p><p>She ducked back around the corner, rushing to collect her things. </p><p>There weren’t any shared physical qualities between Juza and his twelve-year-old daughter, Kaori. Where he wore a constant glower, she had the wide-open eyes of someone inquisitive about the world, searching for answers to things that didn’t have answers. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, light and fluffy as it bounced in the air with her every movement. She was tall for her age—that was the only similarity to him. </p><p>He trudged down the hall to the bathroom. A quick splash to the face and adjustment of his hair (slicked back til the day he dies) had him ready for the morning. </p><p>The routine was that he’d send Kaori off to junior high and then come back for the sleep he missed out on during work. It was regrettable, living a schedule opposite to Kaori’s, but the job was steady and paid well and Fushimi was an understanding boss, probably since he had a daughter of his own. </p><p>It was worth enduring bitchy customers if it meant Kaori was living happily. All Juza had ever had was his family, and that held true to this day. </p><p>He decided to give Kumon a call soon. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“…Seriously?”</p><p>Itaru looked up from his phone to see Banri coming home with a whole shopping cart filled to the brim with pink boxes wrapped in white ribbon. It barely fit through the entrance hall, but with all of Banri’s vim and vigor, he managed to push it into the living room without any casualties. </p><p>“Holy shit, I’m exhausted. Come help me put all this in the kitchen, for the love of god, you would not believe the shit I’ve been through tonight. Toss out your chips, that’ll give enough room in the cupboards.” </p><p>“I really thought you were out there bleeding in an alleyway when three hours had gone with you not texting me back.”</p><p>“God, I fuckin’ wish.” </p><p>Itaru raised an eyebrow, not moving from his spot on the couch. </p><p>“So, one: I’m not tossing my potato chips, I need those. Two: I didn’t know you could take shopping carts from the store. Three: I told you to get me, like, one pastry. I was thinking of a cinnamon bun or matcha roll. Did not tell you to clear their whole inventory out.”</p><p>“The shopping cart’s stolen.” Banri stretched his arms over his head, grimacing when his spine made a cracking noise. “No way I was gonna carry all this back in my arms alone. And who says these are for you? Maybe I wanted to treat myself.”</p><p>“Hm,” Itaru said. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that so you can’t consider me an accomplice. You do you.”</p><p>“Don’t you have work soon?”</p><p>“Please do not remind me. I know I have work soon, I have my schedule memorized. It’s branded into my mind.”</p><p>“...So you gonna get up?”</p><p>Itaru groaned like a spirit weighed down by the regrets of several lifetimes and let his phone drop onto his chest. His arm hung limp off the side of the couch. </p><p>“Yeah, I’m getting up.”</p><p>“It’s times like this when I’m really glad I didn’t fall for that nine-to-five office BS,” Banri muttered. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“What am I supposed to do waiting for you guys to come home?”</p><p>Inside a different high-rise apartment, three men stood in a well-decorated entrance hall. Several large bags of marshmallows were hung up on the wall alongside your everyday coats and hats, varying in brand and quality. </p><p>One of the men, dressed in a long black coat and rectangular glasses, scoffed at his partner. </p><p>“The same thing you do every day waiting for us to come home.”</p><p>The other nodded, then ate a marshmallow.</p><p>“...mm.”</p><p>“It’s so boring sitting inside all day, though!” A whine slipped from the third man’s throat. He shook his head violently, seafoam-colored locks of hair flying everywhere. Despite the tantrum, everyone involved knew his complaints were playful and easy to dismiss, because they had this conversation at least once a week. </p><p>“You know why you’re delegated to housework. Look after Maro, we’re off. I’m not going to be late to work for you.”</p><p>The third kept pouting at his husband’s reply, but he broke into a wide smile moments later as though he couldn’t bear to hold back his joy. </p><p>“Have a good day at work, sweethearts! I love you so much, don’t forget! And don’t die!”</p><p>A handkerchief appeared in his hand, like those that military wives would wave goodbye with, and he did a great imitation of someone sending their beloved off to war. </p><p>“I won’t die. See you later.” </p><p>“...won’t die.” A nod of acknowledgment. </p><p>Despite the several years they’d been living here, it felt as though their peace might still be shattered out of the blue if he wasn’t careful. Hyper-vigilance was the only thing that had kept their little family together, and he would rather run a sword across his own neck than risk losing them for one minute of careless behavior. </p><p>So they promised: today, and tomorrow, and the day after, and every day after that, I will not die. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It was a generic office building, one that couldn’t be picked out from a line-up of dozens others like it. People flitted about, handling documents, inputting data, making small talk. </p><p>Itaru stopped for a break at the water cooler, wondering if he had enough time for a bathroom break to get some extra points in the event he was ranking for. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. </p><p>“Be careful staring off into space there, Chigasaki.”</p><p>Ahh. He plastered on an amicable smile, happy but not overly happy, and turned to his coworker that he definitely did not have a crush on because he was over 40 and people over 40 did not have <em>crushes</em>. </p><p>“Just having a break. Thanks for your concern, though, senpai.” </p><p>Itaru tried to blame his heart palpitations on his poor diet and lack of sleep, but deep down he knew why his hands had suddenly gone sweaty. Well, the poor diet and lack of sleep were part of it, but not the whole of it. </p><p>He didn’t even know if Chikage was single. There was a ring on his middle finger, but not the ring finger of his left hand, but that didn’t mean anything because he might have a partner that he just hadn’t gotten engaged to yet, and if that was the case then Itaru had spent the last year or so pining over someone he never had a chance with. It would be just his luck, though, wouldn’t it? </p><p>There were too many logistics to consider for an adult relationship. It felt like only yesterday he’d been 24 and buried in the unwanted affections of every woman at his workplace. </p><p>Things were so simple then! Now he had to think about gross shit like tax benefits and his waning fertility. </p><p>“Of course. You look a little tired, that’s all,” Chikage said. He offered a consolatory shoulder pat that made Itaru feel both ecstatic and condescended to, which was the usual effect Chikage had on him. </p><p>“You know how it is. Work.” </p><p>They shared a shallow laugh. The irony in it spread like a drop of paint in a cup of water, tendrils spiralling outward. </p><p>Chikage was a mysterious fellow that had consistently seeked Itaru out for idle chatting every day for the past year. That seemed like a reasonable amount of interest to be hopeful about. He always spoke in double-meanings and triple-layered lines of conversation, which was simultaneously annoying and endearing. </p><p>Itaru thought it was kind of cute how Chikage never said what he meant directly. It was like a game. And if there was anything Itaru could be in a committed relationship with, it was games. </p><p>“If there’s anything I can help you with to lighten the load, feel free to ask.”</p><p>“Thank you for the offer, but I couldn’t. I’ll just have to learn to take better care of myself.” Itaru idly adjusted his cuffs, avoiding Chikage’s eyes. </p><p>“You don’t have someone to help take care of you?” Chikage raised an eyebrow at him. </p><p>Was he asking if Itaru had a partner? Did that mean he was interested? No, this was still in the realm of small talk—he couldn’t get ahead of himself and risk breaking his image. </p><p>“Unfortunately, I’m still a bachelor. Most people have settled down already, so my options are limited.” The only wives he had were the ones saved onto his phone’s storage. </p><p>“That’s a shame. Anyone would be lucky to have you, don’t you think?”</p><p>Itaru tried not to read into that statement. </p><p>Mission failed. </p><p>He smiled at Chikage, extra sparkly and professional, to cover up the loud internal monologue that ran through his brain like a bus enroute to hell. </p><p>“It’s kind of you to say that. If I may ask, do you—?”</p><p>Someone called out to them from the ocean of cubicles. “Utsuki, can I get you over here for a sec?” </p><p>“Yes, one moment.” Chikage turned back to Itaru, looking sincerely curious for once, or at least as sincere as he could let himself look in a professional setting. “What were you saying?” </p><p>“It was nothing. I’ll see you again, then, Utsuki.”</p><p>“See you later, Chigasaki.”</p><p>Goddammit. </p><p>Taking the bathroom break was the right choice after all, not only for tiering, but also so Itaru could clear his head by complaining to Banri.</p>
<p></p><div class="LIME">
  <p>
    <strong class="user_R">Itaru Chigasaki</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="right itaru">i s2g hes fucking w me on purpose at this point</p>
  <p>
    <strong class="user_R">Itaru Chigasaki</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="right itaru">the only other person who flirts like this is jigsaw of saw fame</p>
  <p>
    <strong class="user_L">BANRI.</strong>
  </p>
  <p class="left banri">LMAOOOOOOOO</p>
</div>Scratch that. Talking to Banri was never the right choice.<p> </p><p> </p><p>Fushimi Sweets was open, but business was slow that morning. Omi was too tired to bake for once. </p><p>Some of the regulars came in just to chat and grab a breakfast croissant, small stuff like that, but he threw up the CLOSED sign as soon as it hit 11 a.m. because exhaustion was weighing down his limbs. If he wasn’t careful, his shaking hands would result in dropped trays and wasted food. </p><p>He took off his apron and sighed, placing one arm against the wall. </p><p>“…take one.” </p><p>“Huh? Thank you, Hisoka-kun.” </p><p>Omi accepted the marshmallow gratefully.</p><p>Hisoka was a part-timer he’d taken on recently. Quiet fella. But he was reliable and consistent in his work, which was a quality Omi admired enough to balance out the whole sleeping-on-the-job habit. And the marshmallows. </p><p>“…you should eat it.”</p><p>“Oh. Yeah, thank you.” </p><p>He popped the marshmallow in his mouth. It was nice. There wasn’t anything more to be said about it. Just like his own work in the kitchen, he could appreciate the simple joy of a treat. </p><p>“Have you always liked marshmallows?” </p><p>Hisoka blinked, then nodded. It was a near-imperceptible reply that Omi only noticed because he was staring directly at him. </p><p>“…they’re good. I liked them when I first tried them…”</p><p>“Your one month anniversary of working here is coming up. Would you like it if I made a marshmallow cake?” </p><p>“…mm.”</p><p>The subtle glow on Hisoka’s face made Omi’s heart melt a little bit. Yeah, that’s why he loved cooking, wasn’t it? He loved being able to share that simple joy with the people around him. It was the same when he let Juza taste-test his cooking experiments at night. </p><p>If only relationships were as straightforward as following a recipe and adjusting to taste.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>please comment and feed my existence as an author &lt;3 did you think it was funny? interesting? is this anything?<br/>[A3! LIME work skin: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17489243]</p></blockquote></div></div>
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